Curtain
by Simone Robinson
Summary: -"And at that moment, I remember, he looked like all the life had been sucked out of his world. I remember, because it was also the first time I have ever seen my brother look truly terrified."- Is it simply insanity…or something more? Something sinister?
1. Chapter 1

**C** u r t a i n

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**Michelangelo**

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**

It happened two days ago. My brothers and I had been watching TV. It was one of those cheesy horror flicks (The kind I love, you know?) The ones with monsters and the screaming damsels-in-distress and such. I forget which one it was, but then again, it isn't really important anymore. Raph was sitting next to me, doing that thing that people do when they're half asleep, sort of slumped against my shoulder. Leo was sitting in one of our armchairs, just a little away from us and Don was sitting next to me.

When Raphael sat up, I didn't think anything of it at the time. I knew that his arm felt rigid where it was pressed against mine, his whole body tense. But maybe I'm just making that up, now that I know what I do, know that I know what was about to happen. Maybe I'm just trying to justify things. I think Donnie is trying to do that too, but he's too smart, he can't kid himself like I can. But maybe I can't lie to myself either, I can't tell.

And then there's Leonardo. I think Leonardo is trying to justify everything too, give it meaning, give it _reason_… But I can't really tell with him. You can never tell with Leonardo.

At the time, I was too engrossed with the movie to really_register_ what was happening. All I noticed was that at first everything was still and then Raphael moved; it was this jerky, almost spastic, twitch.

I remember turning to look at him then, maybe to make some off handed comment, I don't know. Again, it's not really important anymore.

Originally, I thought that none of us saw what was happening. At least, not at first, not until after. But now I think that Leonardo saw, because in the end it was Leonardo that stopped him.

One moment Leonardo had this sort of _horrified_look on his face. He looked like he couldn't _quite_ grasp what was happening, like he was in some kind of shock. But again, my mind could just be fabricating things, now that I know more.

Then Leonardo was launching himself at Raphael and the next minute they were lying on the floor, in a tangle of arms and legs, and I could see Raphael's sai poking from under them. I could see something wet, shiny and slick on the tip. It was red and I realized that it was blood.

Donatello reacted faster than me. While I was still sitting on the couch, dazed, useless, and gaping in shock, Donatello was at their side, pushing them away from each other, checking them for injuries. Leonardo was breathing heavily, giving Raphael a look that I couldn't quite place. His hands were fisted and his knuckles were white. I had a second to wonder what exactly that look _meant,_ but not more than a moment. After all, it wasn't _him_ that I was focused on.

The one thing that I remember best, remember with _complete_ clarity, was the look on Raphael's face right at _that_moment. He was lying half-sprawled against the couch, one arm tucked to his chest, one leg bent.

He was pale. Pale and clammy. I remember, he was looking at his left hand with wide eyes, touching the gash that bled against his palm, dripping through his fingers. And at that moment, I remember, he looked like all the life had been sucked out of his world. I remember, because it was also the first time I have _ever_ seen my brother look _truly_ terrified.

***0***

"I think you're over reacting Leo."

"Over reacting? Raphael just tried to…You think I'm over reacting?"

I stayed still, crouched against the wall, just out of view of the kitchen and their occupants. In this case, they were my brothers and I could see their shadows falling in the light on the floor.

"We don't know what happened Leo." Donatello. Always the rational one, the calm one.

"We know _exactly_ what happened Donatello!" I didn't like the sound of Leonardo's tone. It was cold. Colder than I can ever remember him sounding, "We _know_ what he tried to do and now he's alone in his room!" I could see Leonardo's shadow raise its hands, gesturing wildly, "_Alone!_"

"And what do you think he's gonna do, huh?"

"I wonder."

They were both sounding angry now, but it was probably the stress. This could take its toll on anyone. I could feel my own hands shaking, trembling and damp, and I shoved them between my knees.

"Look Leo. We need to hear everything before we jump to conclusions."

"Raphael…" Leonardo sounded calm again, and for some reason, that scared me, "Raphael had a _blade_at his _throat_ and if I hadn't stopped him he would have…"

All of a sudden, my brother sounded choked up, but not like he was crying, more like the words got stuck in his throat and he couldn't _quite_ force them all the way up.

"_Leo_."

Leonardo takes a deep breath, "Okay. Okay we'll talk to him."

"Later?" It's not really a question.

After a long moment, Leonardo concedes, "I'll talk to him later."

Only when Leonardo's shadow moves, begins to grow bigger, do I realize my mistake. Cursing under my breath, I pull myself closer to the wall. Stupid, stupid,_stupid_!

As Leo strides out through the door, I see him pause. He looks straight into the shadows, right in my direction. It's just a casual glance, but somehow, he has me pinned to the floor. I don't move, just sit there, not daring to breath, not daring to wipe the drops gathering on my brow even as my leg muscles ache from lack of movement.

Then he nods. It's almost unperceivable but I catch it. He looks up once, in the direction of Raphael's door, and then back at me. After another second of just standing there, staring, he leaves.

But my job is clear.

**

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**Raphael**

My bandana feels soft in my hand, supple. I twist it around my fingers, letting it drip from my hands. There's a dark stain on it, but it sort of blends with the color. I see an oil stain next to it, at the place where the fabric tapers. Oil and blood. Not an unusual combination. Accidents happen in the kitchen. Accidents happen on bikes, in garages. Accidents happen everywhere.

If only this were an accident too.

What do you say? When you know that something is real, when you know that the things in your dreams, in your nightmares, in your _head_are real. What do you do when you know that your time is running out and you're clinging to the last freaking _strands_ but they're snapping, _you're_ snapping and you don't know what to do?

You wait. You sit and wait and hope to God that somehow everything will turn itself around. But when has that ever worked? I can't just sit here and wait, just sit here and do absolutely _nothing_.

My brothers always said that attitude would get me killed. Now, I reckon it may just be the thing that saves my life. _If_there is a way. And there_has_ to be a way. I wish I could think clearly, like Donnie or Leo. Don would have a logical, scientific reason for this, he would have something that could explain what is happening to me, or at least have medication, treatment, _something_ that could _fix_it. Leonardo has all his spiritual shit that he loves so much. He could come up with something.

I don't feel like myself. I can't think straight. I can't _think__. _Wonder what Mike would say about that.

I'm so, so tired. But when I sleep, _he's_ there. When I sleep, it's game over and I _don't_want to loose. I won't.

I wonder what they think about me, my family. I wonder if they think I'm crazy, if they think I'm some suicidal freak. I wonder if Leo knows how damn grateful I am that he stopped _him_, stopped _me._ I know I won't get around to telling him, that bastard is too ego-freaking-tistical to start with, but I wonder if he picked up on it. That blade was close. So very, very _close_ and I rub my eyes. They hurt.

I wonder if I'm really worried about anything, everything…

I decide that I should be, but I'm just too damn tired to care.

**

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**Michelangelo**

I've always wondered how Master splinter got all of his fur to dry so fast. Always. I would go ask him, if he were here. He's not though, he's at the Daimio. I wonder if I could call him, ask him. I doubt it, I think Leonardo would throw a hissy. Right now though, anything is more inviting than opening this door.

The door is brown, dark, and I trace my finger across it, across the scars in the wood. I know Raphael has thrown things at his door before. It's no secrete. It happens when he gets home late, chucking things, swearing, some more loud noises, swearing some more and then everything is quiet again. He hasn't been doing that too often lately. Not to say he's gone to bed early, but he hasn't really left the lair. He had a bout about a week ago when he drove Leo crazy and then he just stopped. I don't know if I like it and I keep thinking- what if it was all a build up to this? And then I wonder what _this_ is.

I wonder if this is procrastination. Isn't that one of the seven deadly sins? Or it is sloth? I forget.

Risk Heavens fury, or open that door and face my brother?

I can feel perspiration on my brow and I wipe it away, almost irritably.

I wonder why he did it.

I haven't thought about it before, which is weird. I just sort of assumed that there was some logical explanation. But what it there isn't? Do I want to hear that? Do I want to know why? I wonder if Leonardo is right, or if his judgment clouded by whatever I saw in his eyes. Or is Donatello right to trust Raph? I don't know, but suddenly I'm scared. My eyes dart to the door and back down the passage. I know I can't dawdle too long. If Donatello should walk down here, he'll probably ask me what I'm doing, and knowing me, I'd spill everything and end up blubbing on the couch. I don't want that. Not today, I don't think it would be very good for me, or Leonardo.

Leonardo.

I remember the way he looked at me, looked at Raphael. I think that look might have been pressure, it might have been pressure and responsibility crumbling around his ears as he sat there, helpless to do anything.

I think I know how he feels. There's a rope around my chest, my lungs, my heart, that is making me feel the same way. It's made out of terrible, terrible emotions that no one ever wants. And I think Leonardo has one too. But I cant be sure. One can never be sure.

My hand has found its way to the handle now. My fingers twitch, electric. It takes me a while to get it together, to pull that handle down and give the door that final _push_.

When I finally do, I am greeted by darkness.

The room smells of something stale, something almost coppery. I wonder, for a moment, what it is, before I click. Of course, he went straight to his room, he probably didn't even think to look at his hand or stop the bleeding. On top of that I can smell cinnamon and something spicy, something strong. It smells like my brother and I take a tentative step forward.

"Raph?"

No answer and I feel a lump rise in my throat.

"Raphael?"

A few more steps in and my eyes have adjusted. I can see him now, sitting slumped over on the edge of his bed. He's okay and relief, sick, traitorous relief, bubbles in my chest. What did I think he was going to do?

He looks up, but his movements are slow, uncoordinated almost and his eyes are bloodshot as they meet mine, "What?"

His words are lacking something, that hard, sarcastic bite. No one goes into Raphael's room without reason, if you do, you get your head bitten off. It's just this thing he has with his privacy. But now, he doesn't seem to care and I think that scares me the most.

I swallow, "Raph, what was that?" No niceties. Maybe not the best tactic. I don't move closer, or back away, I don't sit beside him, or crouch on the floor. I just stay still, waiting for him to say something, _anything._

When he speaks, his voice is low, hoarse, and I can tell that he's testing the waters, "_What_?"

"You know _what_." My own tone surprises me, and from the look on his face, it surprises Raphael too.

"I don't know."

I laugh, but there's something bitter, hard and dormant that makes itself known, "You don't _know?"_

Raphael shakes his head and the rope that is coiled around my chest squeezes that much tighter.

But still, I laugh, because it's all i can do.

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**I don't want to give too much away. Thanks so much for reading this, I appreciate it. Also: Standard. I do not own TMNT and none of the comments in the fic are meant to offend anyone in anyway.**

**What did you think?**


	2. Chapter 2

**C** u r t a i n

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**Michelangelo**

"We got any beer?"

The words ram into my brain, hard and unforgiving, "What?"

Raphael looks up and I can see rings around his eyes, settled deep in his skin. I bet if you dropped ink, it would stick in the little crevices and folds, like girls mascara. Except, Raphael wouldn't do that and I wonder just when he had taken his mask off. Had I just not noticed until now? He takes a deep breath, "Alcohol, Mike."

I always used to joke that Raph would end up dead from all the drinking. I used to kid and say his liver would just give up on him and we'd have to cart him out of here in a pale-pink hearse.

Suddenly, it doesn't seem so funny.

"Why?" It's a stupid question and I know it, but I can feel a throbbing in my head that just will_not_ go away and maybe, just maybe, Raphael's answer will do the trick.

But I doubt it.

For a long, long time he doesn't say anything. I don't know how many minutes I wait, how many _seconds_. It feels like _hours_, feels like _days,_ but I know it can't be true. Then again, I look at Raphael, he seems to be visibly deflating in front of my eyes, crumpling and sagging like wet paper. He seems to get older.

Like paper.

So fragile yet powerful, with the right owner. It can do amazing things, like those origami swans Leo showed me how to make. It didn't take too long to catch on. I remember, Leo was impressed and I was so happy because Leonardo seemed proud, even if it was only a stupid swan.

But paper can tear too, so I'd rather not make that comparison.

Then the long moment is over and Raphael looks up, "It helps…" He murmurs, without much conviction, "Yeah. It helps."

He doesn't seem to be looking at me anymore and I take it as my cue to leave.

"Okay…" I mutter, stepping back, "I'll go look…"

He still isn't looking at me, his eyes focused on a spot just above my head. I follow his gaze but see nothing_. Is this it?_ I feel that rope, that stupid,_ stupid_rope of bad, bad emotions curling tighter around me. It feels like it's inside of me now, entering through a hole in my chest. That hole must have hurt to make, hurt so much that I blocked out the pain. People do that sometimes. It's my only explanation for the coldness that has settled on me, stopping me from feeling. It's oddly comforting.

But at the same time, terrifying.

"I'll go look." And I step out of the room. I don't shut the door but I don't know why I leave it open.

***0***

I can feel the curiosity burning through Leonardo, but he doesn't say anything and I appreciate that.

I can feel my hands slipping on the bottles in the fridge. There's juice, ice tea, ice coffee, milk. Wait, that's a box. I don't know if I'm actually looking for the beer. I don't know if I intend to give it to Raph if I find it. He said it helps but bad things happen when you drink.

And we don't need any more bad things.

"Is he okay?"

"Yes." I say quickly, "He's okay."

It's the truth. Or maybe I need it to be the truth so badly that I have changed everything to suit myself.

"What you looking for?"

"Something to drink." Again, the half-lie comes easily and that thought disturbs me a little. But only a little.

"For Raph?"

My head swivels round, "No."

Leonardo is nearly on top of me and I stumble backwards. When had he snuck up on me like that? I can smell him, he smells of incense and something soapy, strong, almost like flowers, but not quite. Because Leo doesn't smell like flowers.

He raises and eye ridge, "No?"

He looks skeptical and I suppose that he should be. I shrug, "Yeah."

He's still staring at me and I wish he would stop, "Yes?"

I can feel myself getting flustered, "I mean, yeah, it's not for him?" It's more of question than a statement and it's times like this that I long for the ability to hold my conviction. _Damn it._I step back again, "What's with the Spanish inquisition, bro?"

He shrugs, "Nothing. You just seem a little edgy. What happened in there?"

I'm right up against the kitchen counter now and out of the corner of my eye I see that the fridge is still open, "Leo, the-"

He slams it shut, "You were saying?"

"Nothing." I swallow, "And nothing really, just stuff. Look he didn't say much."

"But he said _something_?" Damn it. Why can't he just stay there, at the other end of the kitchen? I bet this is one of those intimidation tactics he read in that book of his- _The art or war_?- I think it's called.

"Yeah…" I mutter, "Something."

"Stop the games Mike."

"Games?" There's something like anger inside me but it's quickly washed away, "Leo. Nothing. I got nothing out of him. He just asked for something to drink okay?"

Leonardo's quiet for a moment, his eyes searching my face. After a few seconds he seems to find what he's looking for. He looks satisfied.

"Okay…" He nods slowly, "Okay." He turns so that his left shoulder is facing me, "I'm gonna go talk to him."

I smile, "You do that." But my voice sounds flat.

**

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**Raphael**

"_What_?" The word tastes venomous on my tongue.

"Your sais."

I sneer, "Give them to _you_?"

"After that stunt you pulled, I don't think its safe that you keep them."

"Safe." I scoff, "Nothing is _safe_." But I can already feel the lack of sleep pushing against me, dragging me down, dulling my senses. I know my words are starting to slur.

"Raphael." He's getting closer but I barely have the energy to push myself from the bed. When I do, Leonardo pushes me down, it's not hard but it sends me tumbling back onto the mattress.

"These it?" He rips my weapons from my belt. I make a grab for them but miss.

"Fuck you."

"Your other weapons are in the dojo right?" From when we cleaned them a couple of days ago. Yeah.

I don't answer.

Leonardo puts a hand on my shoulder but I shrug it off. He lets it drop, "We'll talk later."

I watch him leave my room, my sais dangling in his hands.

Suddenly, I have this weird feeling in my chest. It feels more like vulnerability than I will _ever_ admit. And I wish I could feel anger. All I can feel though, is this tiring, numbing feeling. I think it's fear. I don't care.

"Leo…"

I hear the lock click.

_Great._

"Leo, open my goddamn door…"

I wonder if he's there, if he can hear me. I drag myself up, landing with heavy thud against the wood. I bang my fist on the door. It takes more effort than I would have liked.

"Open my fucking door!"

That's not panic. I'm fine. Just pissed that my brother locked me in my own room. I'm pissed that he had the _balls_ to even do that. Because when I get out of here…

I slide down, landing on my floor in a heap. I rest my head against the wood. I can feel the scars from all the times I chucked something at Mikey before he slammed the door, every time I've just been so angry that I exploded and lodged knives and shit into it.

"When I get out of here…"

I rest my head into my free hand, the one not clutching at my bandana.

All of a sudden, my room smells on lies.

_If_ I get out of here.

**

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**

**Michelangelo**

It was a hollow, nauseating feeling deep down inside if me. The feeling isn't getting any better, it's getting worse. Something alien and repulsive is starting to take over me.

"Leo…"

He doesn't look at me, but somehow I know what he's going to say, "It's for his own good."

"You don't know what you're saying." I said icily.

Donatello tries now, "Leo, please…"

"Please what? Keep lying, keep pretending that everything is fine when it's not? Pretending that he isn't going to do anything when we all _saw_it?" Leonardo's words are getting faster and faster now, more slurred.

"Leo…" Donatello was frowning, "Maybe you should go rest. Lie down."

"Lie down?" I don't need to lie down. I should have guessed you'd take Mikey's side."

"There are no sides, you're being stupid!" I snap.

"I'm being stupid." Leonardo laughs, but the sound chills me, "What do you want to do? Give him his sais? Look what he did last time."

I tense, "No. But don't lock him in his room Leo. That's not right."

"Not right…" Leonardo pinches the space between his eyes, "Not right…" He repeats.

"Exactly."

But it doesn't seem as if Leonardo has heard me, "It's not right. What's right it letting him walk around a house full of martial art equipment, water and high ridges…" He's rambling now and it's not like Leo, "Let him do whatever…"

"Leonardo."

His voice is suddenly hard, "He's staying put and that's that. " He looks up, "I refuse to…" He stops, looking at me and then at Don, "Don't you dare open that door. If you try, I _will_stop you"

Then he leaves. And the scariest thing is- I believe him.

**

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**

**Raphael**

The air tastes like silt and ashes. I can feel the sting of old smoke as it fills my nostrils, pungent.

_No._

_Again._

Asphalt, hard and rough against the soles of my feet.

My breath is almost in-audible.

I can feel something cold and hard in settling in my chest.

_No._

I can smell _him._

_Him._

Ash and flesh and something rotten and pungent.

_No._

I can hear a soft sound, almost like a squeak. A squeak. I resist the urge to laugh. Mocking.

Fear is not something that I am feeling. It's strange, but I'm not even scared. I think I am past that, I think that _terrified_ is not even accurate. Instead I laugh, "Took you fucking long enough."

He laughs too and I really, _really_ hate the sound, "_Raphael…_"

I close my eyes and wonder exactly when I fell asleep.

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**Thank you for all of your amazing reviews! Oh, and****Pinguin1993, your PM's are disabled, but thanks a ton for the review.****Smile-I'mTheEndOfAllThatYouSee- Thanks as well.**

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	3. Chapter 3

**Curtain**

* * *

**Chapter 3**

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**Raphael**

The smell. Gods, the smell of burnt flesh, charred remains, of rust and blood and ashes. I can see the ashes as they dance in front of my eyes. They blur my vision, a haze of grey, white and smoke. My eyes sting and water and I feel the ash work its way into my lungs and tighten them. I bite back a snarl of revulsion. Every moment of every day, this scent works its way into my mind, my thoughts, my skin. I can't get it out, no matter how I scrub, no matter how I fight.

Nausea worms its way through my stomach. _How could you fight an enemy that was not even real?_

I am a challenge and I know it. A ninja, a warrior. Ain't no way I was ever gonna go down without a fight, without takin' some bastard down with me. I wasn't gonna cave and cry and lose myself my those other idiots he'd targeted. We've seen enough weird shit in our lives, been trained my Sensei in the arts of defendin' my mind against attacks. Sure, I aint ever gonna be the best, but I'm a far cry away from others. It is why I lasted so long, why I brushed all this shit off as bad dreams.

I reach for my sais, but they're gone and I bare my teeth, "Feelin' lucky?"

I'm exhausted, and he knows it. I don't stand a chance against him tonight, but I ain't goin' down without a damn good fight.

He laughs, and I feel shoots of pain rocket through my plastron. I tighten my hands into fists, pushin' myself to my feet. I ain't gonna die sittin' down and waitin' for death.

"I have waited a long time for this…" He's enjoyin' this, the bastard. I ain't ever been scared of much, but how do you fight somethin' you can't see, can't track, can't touch?

It is only when he steps from the shadows of my dream, that I see him. His hat is tipped, hidin' the scars of his face, the burnt remains of what was once flesh. It is rippled, red and raw, and the skin on his hands mirrors the burns. The long points, the long claws that extend from his glove and reach out for me, "Missed me? You've avoided sleep for quite some time, Raphael- you've avoided old Freddy Krueger… but I've caught up with you." He laughs, and it's an evil, twisted sound in the back of his throat, "You can't stay in the sunshine forever. The darkness will always catch up."

"Fuck you." I snarl and raise my fists, throwin' the first punch.

* * *

**Leonardo**

My mind is a haze, my emotions twisting and filling me, making it difficult to think. But I have to plan, I have to stay logical. I have to resist the pull of my emotions, of my fear, my anger and grief that tears into my soul and threatens to rip me apart from the inside. Strong, I need to be strong. I need to find out what is happening, and I cannot leave it.

I have faced my brother once, but we need to talk again, need to discuss this force that is ripping our family apart. What have we missed- what has been so glaringly obvious that we have not seen? Have we failed Raphael, or is it something we are not even aware of?

It strains me, weighing down my mind and soul, making my body restless, my spirit unsettled. He had a blade at his throat. My little brother. I let that happen. I let him get that far, that bitterly desperate. I tighten my fist and choke on my fear.

I have to check on him.

Raphael is in the air, suspended above his hammock. His feet are not touching the fabric, and he gasps for air, fighting with something, with an unseen force. He's kicking, and I can see the bruises that bloom on my skin. I stand for only a second.

I do not think, I simply do, throwing myself against my brother, slamming him into the bed and wrenching him from the unseen force. I can feel it pulling against me, resisting me, restricting my movements, and the blood is rushing to my brother's head, mottled bruises blooming on his throat. He's trying to breathe and clawing at his own neck. Something is keeping him up. I've seen enough strange things- I do not hesitate, ramming my sword into the air. I feel it, feel the crunch of bones, the tear of muscles and the resistance of flesh, but I see no blood, I hear no screaming, and the next second, it's gone. My sword plunges into Raphael's hammock and I am thrown on top of him. His eyes open with a start- they are red and raw and full of terror. _Raphael is terrified._ The thought sends ice into my gut and I pull him into a hug, harsh and quick, eyes scanning the room.

I have no idea what happened, but I am starting to think that we misunderstood everything. Something is after Raph, and I have no idea what it is.

* * *

**Raphael**

I'm dazed. Everythin' is a haze that I can't quite see through. I clutch my throat- it's painful and raw from that bastard's hands around my throat, squeezin' the life out of me. He's strong, stronger than anyone we have ever faced before. Leo is beside me, and I wonder when the fuck that happened. Did he help me? He must have gotten here just in time. I wonder what the fuck happened.

Leo pushes himself up beside me. He grabs my wrist and pulls me up. I can smell the leather and steel on him, the scent of his blades. I jerk my wrist free and he narrows his eyes at me. He is angry; he is geared from the fight. I glare at him, exhaustion makin' my world spin. _What the fuck did he know anyway?_

That's when I realize that there is fear in my brother's eyes. A kind of fear that I have not seen before, not in him, not in Leo. He grabs me by the shoulders and I feel his fingers dig into my skin, "What the hell _was that_, Raphael?" His voice is loud and I can see him strugglin' for control, for his famous composure. He is losin' and he knows it. His eyes flash cold, but I can see the panic behind them. Leo is tryin' to make sense of somethin' that seems impossible. Is impossible, "Answer me!"

I jerk out of his grip, but it is strong. _Fuck, when did Leo become stronger than me? _I flex my fists and snorted. Strong as ever. Just tired, so goddamn tired. I'm not sure what happens next, but I think Leo helps me sit down, or I sit down myself- I don't know. Everythin' is a blur, a haze of exhaustion, white and fuzzy. The next thin' I know, Leo is shakin' me. His jaw is tight, but he isn't shoutin' anymore. Thank fuck.

"Raphael…I need you to tell me what happened. What_ was_ that?" There is urgency in his voice. He can't plan, he has no control over this and it scares him. _Him._ I want to laugh- I can't remember bein' scared. I am passed that, beyond that. This had gone on for far too long.

When the body is sleep deprived, it forces you into the state of dreamin' awake- seein' thin's that you would usually only see in your dreams. Your dreams become real, but only to you. Only to people who have been kept up with sleepless nights. Like me…like my brothers.

The stench of ashes and burnin' flesh hits me again, and this time, I know that I'm not asleep. I turn to look at my brother, seein' for the first time the rings beneath his eyes, the crevices and cracks. Like porcelain that has been patched together far too many times, and has little bits missin'.

"What's that smell?" Confusion mixes with the urgencies in his eyes, and that is when I realize that I have passed the point of no return, of dreamin' wide awake. I turn my head to look at him, every movement a war through molasses.

"Leo…when did ya last get sleep?"

* * *

**A/N: And here is the reveal! Freddy Krueger (Google him if you don't know). I have decided to resurrect this story, which I had abandoned. Hope you enjoyed- Please review if you are interested in hearing more of this.**


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